confessions to say only to the dead
can in the meantime be said
to this small stone
it fosters
no judgement
no ties to a mouth
lined with opinions
the stone
who never had ears
can’t proclaim you liar
can’t claim you
teach you
challenge you
shape you
it is after all
a stone
it accepts
the stone
though an object of long past
has no past
it just was
and will be
it is
neither alive nor dead,
the earless stone
has a good character for listening
you needn’t wait
for the stillness
of death
to spill your glass
take this, my confession
to wherever in the dark
we all go
or don’t:
the love everlasting
the bright wings cut
the dreams unspoken
the bifurcated path
the daring done
the undone buttons
the bruising betrayals
the powdered promises
the obliterated heart
all and every failing of a soul
still trapped in time and flesh
the stone
leavens no judgement
so, I’ll tell you everything, little stone
skim you across the water
three time’s a charm
i’ll pretend you’re the golden penny
to land on the lips
of the dead I’ll tell
to bribe those who’ve heard it all before
the ferryman
the priest
the therapist
any and all
who can throw out a silent brace of ripples
and row back time
poems, prose and pathways
Writer | Artist
Fatos e Curiosidades sobre a natureza e tecnologia
Meditations on Art and Life
"per l' allegria il pianeta nostro è poco attrezzato. Bisogna strappare la gioia ai giorni futuri "
a resource for moving poetry
Linking collage work to the meaning of personal and universal symbols.
This is my adventurous story about buying, designing, and renovating homes in ITALY